


Closer Still

by oceaxe



Series: Closer Than Skin [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Facial Shaving, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stakeout, Wet Shave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Harry is good for Draco, even whenhe'sit's hard.Thanks for Goldentruth for the cheer-read and Maesterchill for the prompt!





	Closer Still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/gifts).



“Please do,” I say. I watch the smirk on Draco’s lips unravel until his mouth falls open. He takes a careful, slow inhale. I’m really hoping I’m not wrong about where this seems to be heading.

We’ve been circling each other for weeks on this stake-out, trapped together in this ludicrously decadent hotel suite. I feel like I never knew the meaning of the word ‘temptation’ until I was partnered with Draco for this assignment.

Draco steps back and brandishes his wand and I suppose I should be paying closer attention to what he’s doing, but I’ve caught sight of his erection tenting his silky pajamas. A hot bolt of need sinks deep into my guts.

I hope he doesn’t ask me to stand up. I’m so aroused I feel weak in the knees, like I might just sink to the floor in front of him. A chaise longue pops into existence next to me and he pushes me towards it. “Lay down,” he says simply, and though I’m not usually a fan of following orders, my cock leaps at the tone in his voice. I slide off the counter where I’ve been perched, hypnotized by the way he handles the blade, and lay back in the chair.

I’m totally vulnerable, there’s nowhere to hide my erection, which pushes eagerly against my pants. He looks down at me, his gaze hungry and fiercely pleased. I catch myself about to say something cheeky and swallow it down. I don’t want to break this tension, not yet.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and I do. I hear him fiddling with something, then something cool is being spread across my cheeks, my chin. The smell is heavenly and I recognize it, of course. At the end of this, I’ll smell just like him.

My hands itch to reach out and slide up his body, where I know he’s leaning over me. It takes incredible control to hold back, but I’ve gotten plenty of practice the last few weeks. He knows, he must know, how badly I want him, how I want to shove myself against him and rub my body all over his. I want to bury my face in his crotch and inhale him, I want to cover him in my saliva, lick him all over. But that’s not what he wants. He wants control. He wants precision. He wouldn’t feel safe, starting where I want to take us. So I’ll let him have the reins. For now.

The sound of scraping metal sends a shiver down my spine. “You trust me with a knife at your neck?”

“It’s not a knife, it’s a razor,” I said, my voice graveled with all the things I’m not saying. I trust you. I want you.

“Stop moving your mouth,” he murmurs, then takes my chin between two fingers and tilts my head back. My neck is bared to him and I feel exposed in a way I’ve never felt before. “So much scruff, Potter,” he drawls. “You need to work on your depilatory spells.”

“Or maybe I’ll just have you do me the honors like this from now on,” I say, unable to completely control my big mouth. I hear his soft snort, and then the razor’s touching me, ice cold, sharp as the keen edge of my lust.

“Hold still,” he says, a whisper of breath across my face and my eyes flutter open. Though his face is only inches from mine, he doesn’t seem to notice; his attention is fixed where the blade rests. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth. Merlin, how I want to lift my head and tease his lip out from between his teeth, take it in my own. My cock jolts at the thought but the cool scrape of the razor distracts me from my urges, sliding down my cheek like a caress. My eyes fall closed again.

I can hear his breathing, not nearly as steady as the movement of the blade as it returns to my cheek and descends again, and again. For my own part, I’m feeling lulled by the sensations; even the knife’s edge of tension as the blade clears my jaw, the surest place for a nick, doesn’t phase me. Draco’s hands are the best thing about him; dexterous, nimble. I used to get hard as a rock in Potions class, watching him chop and slice and mince.

He’s finished my chin and moved to my other cheek. “You’re being remarkably cooperative,” he says. “Do you like it?” I hum my agreement, almost in a trance by now. The razor slides down again, past my jaw, down my neck. It pauses, then shifts, angles in and presses against my vein and I can feel the hint of threat now. “I said, do you like it?”

“I like it,” I say in a strangled voice. My cock is aching and throbbing now, I want to touch it so badly but I’m pinned in place by his fingers on my jaw, the barest graze of steel, my whole body submitting to the slightest touch. “I know,” he says, voice thick and dripping with self-satisfaction, and clearly, clearly he’s not just talking about the shaving.

His hands return to his task. By the way the cool air hits my exposed skin, I can tell he’s only got a few more strokes to go. My body tenses with anticipation for the moment I’m allowed to open my eyes. Something’s going to happen. Finally. I have endless ideas for what that might be, but I know I’m going to leave it in his hands.

The blade makes its last journey down the planes of my cheek. I hear a clatter, then the taps. A cool cloth covers my face for a moment and disappears. Fingers trail down my newly-shorn skin, butter-soft. My eyes open and meet his intense gaze. “Very good,” he says. “You did well.”

“Do I get a reward?” I manage, deliberately not looking down at my desperate cock, which by now must have soaked the fabric with precome.

He turns away, pretending that he’s unaffected, but his cock is still tenting his pajamas obscenely. “What did you have in mind,” he tosses over his shoulder, carelessly.

I stand up out of the chair and push my joggers down. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, then skate down my body and stay fixed on my groin. “Oh yes,” he breathes. “Why don’t you lay back down. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.oceaxereturns.tumblr.com)!


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